


Set a Course for Adventure!

by orphan_account



Category: Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists! (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 00:13:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9573098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: After kidnapping a royal messenger to be a part of his crew, the Pirate Captain faces an uncomfortable subject matter; family.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo! So, this is actually based around a headcanon that I have - the Pirate with a scarf was a messenger for the royal family ( specifically Queen Victoria ) - and after running into the Pirate Captain, he prepares to have him arrested, only to be kidnapped.  
> This takes place, roughly, when the two of them are very young men; I see the Pirate Captain as being about 18 or 19, and the Pirate with a scarf being, maybe, 17 or 18.  
> I sort of made up my own piratical rules, so I hope they work, haha, but I figured, if you're a pirate without a crew, that just sort of makes you a sailor; you are not to be considered a captain. So, the Pirate Captain is without captain's hat, captain's coat or luxurient beard ( only because he's yet to grow one ). Enjoy!

“I do wish you’d stop acting so sour,” the captain said with a fair twinge of noticeable irritation in his tone. “Most captains would force a man to walk the plank for such an attitude.”

“Then why don’t you?” the scarf-wearing man responded gruffly. He was nestled between some barrels, which he assumed were full of gunpowder. “Maybe I’ll find a way to swim back to shore.”

“That wouldn’t be possible,” the captain said, squatting down in front of his new companion and giving him an emasculated pinch on the cheek. “I’d tie your limbs up and find a nice spot of sharks to tear you apart.” He withdrew his hand as the blond slapped it away and then frowned as he stood back up, giving the ‘against-his-will’ pirate a little nudge with his boot. “You’ve got to be the most stubborn pirate I’ve ever met.”

The younger man stood up with such force he nearly fell right back down, but he somehow managed to find a balance.  
“I don’t want to be a pirate, you git!” He gave the captain a forceful shove at the shoulders. It didn’t do much, considering the captain towered a good three feet taller than him, and was much stronger in the upper body from all the pirating. “I never agreed to this. You just took the liberty to kidnapping a civilian and bringing them onto your bloody ship!”

“No,” the Pirate Captain cocked an eyebrow, folded his arms over his chest, “I took the liberty to kidnap a civilian about to contact the police. Besides,” he buffed his nails on his blouse and examined them, for lack of anything better to do. “You were a peasant that worked for royalty. That can only be exciting for a short period of time. Imagine the fun you’ll have as a pirate!” He threw an arm around the thin shoulders of his hostage. “Running people through, going on adventures in search of native ladies whose outfits leave nothing to the imagination; that’s living!”

“That isn’t living,” the man corrected sternly, shrugging out of the captain’s hold. “That’s stupidity. And I want no part of it.” His sea blue eyes drifted to the planks keeping the boat together, then gradually back up to the captain - who was looking at him with a dull, cold expression. The scarf-wearing man took a deep breath. “Take me back. I have a family worth more than you, probably, worried sick.”

With brows knitting together, the Pirate Captain quietly turned away from the young man and quietly strode up a small set of stairs. He grabbed the wheel of the ship and forced it to turn at such an angle, that his hostage tumbled onto hands and knees against the deck.  
As the ship straightened out, the man in a royal shade of blue got to his feet and dusted himself off, then craned his head to look up at the captain.

Now who’s acting sour? The scarfed man thought with a roll of his eyes.  
He trudged to the side of the boat and slumped over the edge, stared down into the water and frowned. A heavy sigh escaped him as he rested his chin upon his arms. While he wouldn’t admit it aloud, there definitely was something very beautiful about being on the open waters; the way the salty pool lapped at the boat and rocked it, the cool breeze combing through his dirty blond locks, the sound of gulls squawking their tales of life on the water. There was something almost relaxing about it, something that was almost a guilty desire for everyone - for every kid at some point. Even him.  
To be a pirate; to live out on the sea and creating your own family, living a life of danger, spending nights in an oversized cradle while your captain sung shanties.  
His thoughts sent him into a state of calm he never believed he could achieve, and, before he knew it, he’d actually dozed off in his questionable position.

His eyes snapped open as the boat thudded against a dock, scraping wood against wood, and the anchor splashed in the water. He stood and gave himself a moment to stretch. He directed his gaze up toward the captain; but the pirate was settling in a rather uncomfortable-looking, homemade deck chair and digging through some papers that looked to be very old.  
The royal employee stood for a moment, looked off at the dusty, London cobblestone, then back up toward the pirate - now buried behind a scraggly, worn newspaper.

“Why did you bring me back?” He dared himself to speak up, the curiosity weighing down on him. Pirates weren’t supposed to be nice; if they had a hostage, they would never bring them back, would they? Weren’t they supposed to slice them in half with a sword, or something?

The Pirate Captain lowered the old newspaper and shot the younger man a look. He scrunched up his nose and curled his lip, then crumpled up the paper and threw it back into its pile on the deck. The ship wasn’t very clean; but it didn’t seem to bother the captain.  
“Because you asked me to,” the captain told him flatly, looking off into the distance dramatically, watching the waves roll. He rested his smooth cheek into his hand as he propped up his arm with an elbow.

“But you’re a pirate,” the blond expressed bluntly. “You don’t follow orders or demands from lesser folk. That’s why so many people are afraid of you.”

“Are you kidding?” The captain snapped his head over to the younger man. “Even if you were a hostage, I do have every right to kill you, pirates still have strict rules to follow by order of the Pirate King.” He hooked one leg over the other and rubbed his chin.

“Rules?” The man in blue tilted his head. “I thought a pirate’s life was all about having no rules. Plundering, looting and killing. Everything the law doesn’t like.”

“Well, it is all about going against the law,” he said, “but we can’t go about killing our guests. If a pirate has a guest on his boat, he must treat them with respect; kind of like a hotel.” His finger wound round the curl at his forehead. “And, as for hostages, if a captain does not have a crew, they must create their crew with willing folk, or will an unwilling folk to join. Without a crew, they really shouldn’t be killing unless it’s absolutely necessary.” He untangled his finger from his hair and looked off toward the scarf-wearing ‘peasant’. “And if an unwilling folk wants to leave, we must respect that, or there is the chance they may turn on us, or report us.” He looked away to watch the waves again.

The young scarf-wearer listened to the man speak as though he were reciting it directly from a book. He furrowed his brows and looked back toward the London streets as an awkward silence drifted between the two men. His attention was back on the captain as the older man started down the stairs and went to lower the gangplank.  
He didn’t know why, but he felt bad for this captain; by the sounds of these ‘rules’, he was not the first unwilling hostage this captain had to bring home. Maybe it was just sappiness in his voice, or the disheartened - ‘feel sorry for me’ - look on his face, or, perhaps, it was the warm, heart melting, brown eyes this man had; the scarfed blond shot his hand out and settled it over top of the captain’s, stopping him from dropping the plank.

The captain flinched at the shoulder against the warmth of the other man’s hand over his own. He directed his gaze to the navy blue of his hostages and cocked an eyebrow. His face went a bit red when the younger man gave him a crooked smile.

“Tell me,” the younger of the two said cautiously, “is being a pirate worth it?”

“Worth what?” The captain asked, drawing the plank back into the boat, taking away his hand from the other man’s.

“Worth every homesick tear I’m going to cry?”

The captain went quiet. A moment of guilt flashed on his face. Turning away from the royal employee, he put the plank away and stood for a moment, wringing his hands together. Being a pirate for as long as he could remember - even childhood - it was worth it to him; that is, until he lost his crew - his family. Offed one by one from diseases, creatures attacking, other pirates and the occasional drowning.

“I couldn’t tell you that it is,” he admitted, turning to look at the younger man. “But you can learn to like it the longer you work at it.” He dropped his head, looked down at the rotting patches in the floorboards. “But, when you’re leaving behind family, it isn’t always worth it.”

He felt a thin set of arms around him, and then the smaller, more feminine body of the younger man against his much more masculine. He didn’t take a second to understand the reason for the embrace, he just took a protective hold around the blond, as though he’d known him for years and had cared about him for years.  
Head rested against head and chin cradled against shoulder. The blond held the captain tight, as though he could sense the whole subject of ‘family’ was even a difficult one for a pirate. He didn’t even have one. This man was alone, and the scarf-wearing man could only pretend he knew how long he’d been alone. What he couldn’t imagine was being alone for that long without going mental.  
His brows lifted when he felt something wet on his neck, soaking into the fabric of his scarf and shirt. Pirates had feelings, who knew? Pirates could also cry.

“Sir,” the younger of the two breathed quietly, rubbing a careful pattern on the older man’s back with the tips of his fingers. “It’s okay. I won’t leave if you don’t want me to.”

“But your family -” the pirate protested, starting to draw out of their hold, but the scarf-wearing man pulled him back into their embrace.

“I didn’t really live with them anyway, hardly visited,” he explained casually, bringing up his other hand to carefully pet the brunet locks, combing through surprisingly soft, chocolate hair. “Hated my job, too. Messenger for the royal family,” he scoffed, settling his hand on the captain’s broad neck, thumb caressing the defined jawline. “Nobody wants a job running all over town, wearing themselves out just for some good money. I don’t even think I got all it was worth.” His cheeks dusted pink as he felt the captain’s fingers carefully draw shapes on his side; a childish way to calm himself down, he supposed.

The two of them were quiet again, just holding one another - fit with the scarf-wearer swaying carefully as he gave the captain reassuring, comforting touches.  
Finally, the pirate drew his head back and settled their foreheads together. The closeness made both of the men turn a light shade of red, but neither of them wanted to break apart.  
The scarf-wearer noticed, this close up, the captain smelled quite heavily of ale and meat. More specifically a honey-glazed ham. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t very pleasant, either.  
The captain noted how nice the younger man smelled; probably of royal soaps, mint and dog of some kind. To him, that was hardly pleasant. But he wouldn’t protest.

“You don’t have to stay,” the captain said, disrupting the silence. His head tilted slightly to one side as the scarf-wearing man settled a palm on one of his cheeks, leaning into his touch. He shut an eye as the soft thumb gently swiped along his face, brushing away a stray tear. “I won’t make you.” He concluded at a whisper.

“What if I want to?” The younger man inquired, brushing his fingertips down the older man’s neck in order to settle his other hand at his shoulder as he continued to caress his cheek. “Would it make you happy to have somebody stay?”

The pirate drew his head back, cutting off most of the others touches. He raised an eyebrow, and then frowned softly.  
“What is my happiness to you?” He inquired, shutting his eyes and reattaching their foreheads as the younger male brushed away some remaining tear stains. “You don’t know me.”

“Why should knowledge of another person matter?” The younger of the two frowned. The crease of his skin against the captain’s caused the older man to open his eyes again. “People are people. Everyone needs to feel happiness. It’s an essential emotion. And people who don’t give someone a chance at joy is proof that they are cold, heartless, soulless monsters.” A faint smile pulled at his mouth as their lips brushed from the smallest movement of the captain’s head. “And, from what I’ve learned today,” he continued, brushing his fingers over the captain’s jaw, down his neck, “pirates are not monsters like everyone says they are.” His face flushed a bright pink as he felt the older man lowering a hand to his hip, the other one resting at the small of his back to draw him closer. “At least,” their breathing intermingled as they rested chest to chest, “you’re not.”

“Oy!”

A voice from the shore immediately snapped both men back to reality. With faces as red as the blood of an enemy, they broke from their compromising position and looked over at an enraged elderly man, pointing downwards between the cement bricks and the dock.  
The captain approached, leaving the scarf-wearing pirate to catch his breath, and peered down. There was a small, wooden fishing boat - at least, that’s what the captain thought it was; it was splintered and ripped to bits now.

“I needed that boat to go fishin’!” The old man was shouting, throwing his hands in the air. “Look what you’ve done to it! It’s ruined! I’ll have you arrested for destruction of property!”

“Sorry!” The captain shouted, lifting the anchor. “We’ll get out of your way and give your boat back!” He gave the man a wave - an innocent response to his rage. Then, prepared the sail and hurried to the wheel.  
They pulled out of the dock and the captain looked down at the scarf-wearing man and gave him a bit of a flirtatious smile.

“Where to, Captain?” The blond asked with a brightening smile himself, embracing the word as though he’d only just learned the meaning of it.  
The person in command.

“Adventure, Number Two,” the captain responded with a bit of a gleam in his eye. “Adventure.”


End file.
